


Love's Waiting

by Jenn1



Category: Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Family History, Friendship/Love, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-22
Updated: 2004-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn1/pseuds/Jenn1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary Jane finds an old diary from a great grandmother. When she reads the diary, there is knowledge about events in her family she didn't know about, events that may change her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At the time when I wrote this about nine years ago, I don't think anyone had written a fic along these lines. This was my very first Spider-Man fic as well as my multi chapter one. So this as a bit of a special place in my heart.

 

 

* * *

Pulling a lock of red hair behind her ear that had gotten free from her ponytail, Mary Jane Watson sighed. She went back to putting yet other stack of dusty books in the nearly full box.  _If anyone ever thought cleaning and organizing an attic was fun, they're nuts._

Having heard her daughter's sigh, Madeline Watson straightened from her hunched position wiping off a small dust covered antique table. Mary Jane had been working since this morning without stopping for a break. Neither of them had bothered with something to eat since this morning.

"Why don't you take a break, dear?"

"I will as soon as I am done with these books." There were a dozen or so more books left that needed to be placed in the box. Grabbing a handful of books from the shelf, Mary Jane stood up to carry the books back to the box. As she did that one of books fell, hitting the floor. Not bothering to bend down again, M.J. carried the remaining books to the box.

Walking back over to the fallen book, she picked it up, looking it over. It was old, the cover thick with dust. The book was made of leather, and must have been a rose color at one time, but now the color had faded. It was a thin volume, the pages yellow with age.

Opening it carefully, Mary Jane looked at the written print on the first page.

_It's a diary,_  she said to herself seeing the date. The date on the page read, June 17, 1865.  _1865?_ She looked at the date again, sure enough it was right. The print had faded, making it difficult to read. The lighting in the attic was dim, not helping matters.

"What did you find?" Mary Jane turned her head startled to see her mother next to her.

"A diary, an old one. It's dated in 1865." M.J. handed the book to her mother.

"Oh…" Whatever Madeline was going to say died on her lips as she opened the diary.

"You've seen it before," It was more of a statement then a question.

"Yes, I have." Madeline didn't explain farther.

"And?" Mary Jane asked. Why this diary got her curious to read it, she didn't know.

Madeline sighed. "Your father wanted to write a book on it. I never read this myself," she raised the book in question. "But I didn't think it was right to tell his ancestor's history, just to gain the best seller's list or money."

"The diary is from Dad's family?"

"From a great great great great grandmother, that much I do know."

Mary Jane could understand why her mother would hide the diary even if she had never read it herself. M.J. knew her father, he would have written a book to gain some money. Mary Jane didn't know if he would have gone so far as to claim the story was his own idea; a work of fiction. But she wouldn't put it passed him.

Her parents had finally gotten a divorce a few months ago. Madeline had kicked Phil out, or Phil claim he left, depending on who M.J. talked to. She didn't talk to her father much, so she knew without her mother telling her, that Madeline kicked Phil out.

"Do you want the diary? It is more yours then mine." Madeline held out the diary toward her daughter.

Without a word, Mary Jane took the diary. She opened it to some point near the end of the book. The pages were blank.  _The diary is a thin volume, it wouldn't take much to fill it up would it?_  M.J. was about to comment about this fact when her mother spoke first.

"Are you ready to start modeling Monday?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." M.J. smiled, though it was a bit forced. She was going to be modeling for a semi unknown fashion designer. Pierre had been in the fashion business for a few years, but his designs hadn't made it big yet.

Still auditioning with no luck at getting any parts on Broadway, Mary Jane didn't mind if they were small or large. She wanted to act, not model. But this modeling job would help with the rent. She didn't have a job at the Moondance anymore since quitting six weeks ago. But quitting her day job had its advantages.

As if reading her daughter's thoughts, Madeline asked, "How is John doing?"

"He is doing well. He is training somewhere for the next few weeks."

"He seems like a nice young man." Madeline had only met John Jameson recently. Mary Jane had been dating him for about a month.

After John helped her at the Moondance, he asked for her phone number. Which had surprised her. M.J had expected that John would have asked her out. Though, she probably could count on one hand how many females turned down a date down from John Jameson.

Looking around her, Madeline came to a decision. "We made a lot of progress today." She said looking around the cleaner and neater attic. "You can go on with your day after you finish with the books."

Sweeping the attic with a glance, M.J. said, "I said I was going to help today, and there's more that can be done." She didn't want her mom to do more work by herself. Not only that though, M.J. thought something might be wrong. Her mother never said, but Mary Jane could tell that she hadn't been feeling well.

"I think I am going to call it day with the cleaning up here." Her mother said, then sneezed. "I believe all of this dust is getting to me."

Nodding reluctantly, Mary Jane asked, "Cleaning up here, did it tire you out, Mom?"

Madeline laughed softly, "You're too young to be worrying about me, dear."

_I started to worry long before now, Mom._ Dad _surely never did._ Mary Jane remembered to hold her tongue in time. Though she didn't let her father control her life now, and they talked every now and again, it was going to be some time until she could think of more kinder thoughts about her father.

Smiling outwardly, so her mother would not wonder what was going through her mind, M.J. said, "Alright, fine. We'll stop for the day. Which doesn't mean you can come back here and clean when I leave."

"Who is the mom, here?" Madeline smiled. "I won't come back up."

Putting the diary on the clean table, Mary Jane walked back to the rest of the books. Picking up the last of them, she walked over to the box. That done, she closed the box and stood up.

"Do you want to something to eat before you go?"

Picking up the diary, her daughter shook her head, no. "I'll just going to catch a cab, and go home."

Her mother nodded. They were quiet as they walked down the stairs to the first floor. After calling for a cab, Mary Jane gave her mother a hug. She thought Madeline felt thinner then she remembered.

M.J. knew better to probe her mom about her health. She'll wait for another day to see if she could get Madeline to go to the doctor.

Stepping out the front door to wait for the taxi, Mary Jane breathed in deeply. The air had a slight chill to it. It was only mid-September, but fall would be early this year. "So much for an Indian summer," she murmured to herself, walking down the front steps.

Sitting on the last step, she looked over the diary in her hands. Opening it to the first page, dated June 17, 1865, Mary Jane began to read.

_This is a little strange. I am not use to writing my_ _thoughts on paper, but I need to write something down._ _I don't have anyone I can talk to, no one seems to_ _understand._ _But I suppose I should say something about myself? My_ _name is Anastasia Peterson. I am seventeen, with blonde_ _hair and hazel eyes. Odd, I feel like I am telling about_ _myself in a letter to someone I never met._ _Why am writing in this diary? I keep asking myself. It_ _has to do with my father. He wants me to marry Eric, but-_

"Good afternoon, Mary Jane."

The red haired young woman glanced up, startled. Looking over to the next house over, M. J. saw May Parker in front of her flower bed, a small garden shovel in her hand.

"I don't think you have much more time with your flowers, Aunt May," she said standing up, the diary forgotten for the moment in her hands. Mary Jane's neighbor wasn't her real aunt, but she and her friends had picked up habit of calling May aunt.

"Yes, I know, dear." May smiled.

Mary Jane smiled in return. It looked like the one person who could call the older woman 'Aunt May' wasn't visiting today.

"How is Peter?" M.J. realized too late that she didn't want ask that question.

Peter Parker. The one person she didn't want to think about. But he still was there in the back of her mind, lurking. And what was worse, she couldn't stop thinking about him.

"He tells me he's doing well," But Aunt May's tone said, she didn't believe her nephew. Any time she talked to Peter, he sounded tired.

"I thought he would try to visit you on Saturdays?"

"Peter does when he can." May understood her nephew's schedule. College, a job, whatever else he did that kept his life in chaos, as well as trying to keep an eye his aunt. "He had to do some pictures for the  _Bugle_  today."

A man in red and blue spandex soaring through the air of New York City, popped into Mary Jane's mind.  _Is Peter taking pictures of some event, or his lens focused on Spider-Man?_

"I hope he isn't taking pictures of that Spider-Man person."

M.J. blinked at Aunt May.  _Did I speak my thoughts out loud?_ She asked herself.

May continued on, unaware of the younger woman's thoughts. "It's bad enough that there is a…clown putting himself, or whatever he is, in danger, and Peter has risk himself for a photo."

Mary Jane wasn't so sure. She knew that Spider-Man could take care of himself. As for Peter… "I'm sure Peter is careful." Unfortunately she couldn't say more, because her cab stopped at the curb. "I have to go. It was nice talking to you, Aunt May."

"You should come more often. And I will keep an eye on your mother."

Mary Jane stopped. She had wanted to mention her mom, how did Aunt May know?

"Thanks." M.J. smiled at the older woman. She turned back toward the waiting taxi.

"Your welcome, dear." Now if only May could keep an eye on her nephew…she wouldn't have to worry so about him.


	2. Secrets

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

_She was falling. The dark water was coming closer and closer. This is it, she thought. Spider-Man chose the kids. And that was fine with her, but still, could anyone save her?_

_She was about to hit the water, when someone's face did come to mind. A man with blue eyes and the sweetest face. Just as she hit the water, she thought, I love you, Peter._

Mary Jane sat up in bed with a gasp. She felt like she couldn't get in any air. Her bedroom was dark, there was no moon this night.

Shaking, with her heart beating fast, the nineteen year old tried to breathe in a lung full of air, and let it out slowly. "It was just dream," she told herself softly. M.J. breathed in again. Then exhaled.

She felt her heart start back to normal speed. The nightmare Mary Jane had wasn't a new one. But she hadn't had this dream in a long time. M.J. figured it was behind her, and for the most part it was.

Every now and again, the nightmare would haunt her sleep.

But the nightmare had been real ten months ago. Unlike the nightmare, Spider-Man had saved her, as well as those kids.

Looking at the clock next to her bed, Mary Jane saw it was 3:30 a.m. Turning on the nightstand lamp, M.J. threw back the thin quilt. There was no way she was going to be able to go back to sleep. Whenever she had a nightmare, it was impossible to get back to sleep.

Getting up, she put on her slippers and robe. Walking out to her small kitchen, Mary Jane put filled the teakettle with water, and put it on the stove to get hot.

Turning on a lamp, she sat down in the armchair, putting her feet under her. Shivering, M.J. took the throw that was on one of the arms of the chair and shook it out covering her lower body.

Sighing, Mary Jane saw the diary sitting on the table, where she put it yesterday. Picking it up, she returned to the first page where she left off.

 _This is a little strange. I am not use to writing my_ _thoughts on paper, but I need to write something down._ _I don't have anyone I can talk to, no one seems to_ _understand._ _But I suppose I should say something about myself? My_ _name is Anastasia Peterson. I am seventeen, with_ _blonde hair and hazel eyes. Odd, I feel like I am_ _telling about myself in a letter to someone I never met._ _Why am writing in this diary? I keep asking myself. It_ _has to do with my father. He wants me to marry Eric,_ _but I don't love him. Papa says that love is the for_ _fairy tales. If that is true, did my parents even love_ _each other?_ _My mother died when I was eight. She died giving birth to_ _my baby brother, who died two days later. I miss her_ _sometimes. And I do now, because I want to talk to her_ _about the questions going through my mind._

Mary Jane stopped reading there. She felt a connection with this young woman in this diary.  _But Anastasia was so young to have lost her mother._

Her mind turned from her deceased great grandmother to Peter. His parents had died when he was very young too. If Mary Jane remembered right, she was told that he had been only four, and a plane crash had taken his parents.

 _But Peter had his uncle and aunt who lovingly took him in,_  M.J. said to herself. Uncle Ben and Aunt May raised Peter as their own, until Uncle Ben died about a year and a half ago. Peter had lost a lot of important people in his life.

The teakettle's shrill whistle brought her out of her thoughts. Getting up unwillingly out of her warm cocoon, M.J. went back to the kitchen to get her tea.

Once M.J. was sitting back down, with her feet tucked under her, she sipped her tea. It was too hot to enjoy, so she put it on the table next to her and put the throw back over her legs. Mary Jane picked up the diary to continue reading.

She felt like she could relate to Anastasia in some ways. But as Mary Jane read the diary she didn't realize how so.

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

_Peterson Plantation_

_Richmond, Virginia_

_June 17, 1865_

Pausing in my writing, I sighed. It always made me ache to think of my mother. It has been about ten years since her death, but could anyone get over the loss of their mother? I, Anastasia Peterson, did not think so.

A knock alerts me that I must put my newly purchased diary away. My father, Edgar Peterson, comes in just as I stuff the thin volume in my desk drawer. My father is not an overly tall man, now in his mid-forties looked older then his years with his graying brown hair thinning at the sides.

"What are you still doing up here, Anastasia? Eric should be here any moment."

"I am ready." I said quietly, standing up.

"Good." Papa nodded and left my room.

When I walk out of my room, I see my father had not gone back downstairs, but was waiting for me.

One of our servants came up to tell us that our visitor was here.

"Wait in the drawing room, Anastasia. We will be there shortly."

Nodding to my father, I descend the stairs.

Reaching the drawing room, I walk over to one of the ceiling to floor windows.

The War Between the States had changed much of our way of life as well as our neighbors' lives. It was mainly now that the southern states could not have slaves.

My father has always been a fair man, never overly abusive to our slaves, now servants. Many of ours did not know any other way of life, so they stayed on. Now my father has to pay them a small wage.

Luckily Papa's plantation was one of the few that was not destroyed by the Union army. But my father lost much money because of the war, and now that things are different, it is going to be harder still.

Hearing the door open, I turn to greet my father and Eric Watson.

"Miss Peterson, it is always a pleasure to see you." Eric said to me giving me a slight bow.

"And you, Mr. Watson." Though the man was pleasant enough, my heart did not jump every time I saw him.

"Would you care to go for a stroll?" Eric asked me. I would be rude to refuse so I simply said, "Yes."

Turning to Papa, Eric asked, "Would that be alright with you, sir?"

Papa smiled and nodded. Something told me that my father knew something by the look on his face. Why did it give me an unconformable feeling?

Eric took my hand, tucking it in the crook of his arm when we started walking through the garden. The garden was in full bloom now that it was summer. But wondering what Eric had to say made me miss the beauty of the flowers today.

I did not have to wait long to find out what was on his mind. When we reached a bench in the south part of the garden, he seated me and sat down next to me.

Eric Watson was a good looking man. He had brown hair with blond highlighting in it, brown eyes, and a mustache. I would guess he was in his late twenties, but no more then ten years older than I. I would be eighteen this coming fall.

Taking my hand in his, he started to speak. "Over the past few months I feel I have come to know you, Anastasia. And I-"

I tried to remove my hand from his, but he held it firmly, but gently in his. "I do not think you have known me that long or that well to be calling me by name, Mr. Watson." I interrupted him. "Now release my hand, please." Though I was polite, my voice was firm.

Eric chuckled at that. "Sadly, Miss Peterson, the Confederacy lost the war. So you are not in position to tell me what I can and can not do."

"You can not really say that can you, Mr. Watson? You did not even fight. From what I understand, you had some poor soul paid to fight in your stead." I knew what I just said was uncalled for. Not to mention, that what I heard was something, as a woman, I should not have concerned myself about.

Letting go of my hand, Eric grabbed my chin with his hand. None too gently, he kissed me. I did not know what I was expecting, because I had never been kissed before. Eric's lips crushing and bruising mine was not what I expected my first kiss to be like.

I was too shocked and taken aback to try to resist. Once he released me, I found I was breathing hard. "How - how dare you!" I raised my hand to slap him across the face.

The blow never reached Eric's face. He grabbed my arm in mid-swing. Pulling me to him he said, "My dear, I do not think slapping your future husband across the face would win his affection." Eric's voice was quiet, but had a coldness to it.

"My…what?" I asked looking up at him with astonishment. Surely Papa had not…or had he?

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

_June 21, 1865_

Papa had accepted Eric's proposal for my hand in marriage.

I tried to talk to my father, but to no avail. His decision was final, I had no say in the matter.

To escape the confines of my room, I rode my mare, Daisy, across Papa's land.

Looking around, I let Daisy have a run. She had been chewing at the bit telling me to let her have her head. Galloping with the wind hitting my face, I felt free for the first time in days. If only I can ran from my upcoming marriage…

The main reason I did not wish to marry Eric was how he treated me the last time I was with him. It was like now that he had my hand, he did not have to be as kind as he was before. And even if he had not been cold before, I did not love him. After what happened I am not sure if I ever could now.

I knew I could not let my horse run like she was, so I got her to slow down. Stopping, I did not recognize the area of land we were on. Had I gone too far from Papa's plantation?

In the distance I heard the rumble of thunder. I had to get back home before it started to rain. But which way had I come?

Turning around, I nudged Daisy where the way home was. Or at least that was what I hoped.

The thunder sounded closer. I felt drops of rain on my face. I had not bothered with a bonnet for my head when I left earlier.

Daisy was getting skittish with the sound of thunder. I knew she wanted to be safely in her nice warm stall. I was getting wetter and colder by the second, the rain falling faster now.

I heard another clap of thunder, closer now. That was enough for my horse. She reared, I lost my seat and fell. I do not know if I heard my horse running, because as soon as I hit my head, blackness took me.

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

I awoke when I felt something cool touch my forehead.

The first thing I saw was a ceiling that did not look familiar to me. It looked more like a log roof than a ceiling.

"Good, you woke up."

Turning my head, which caused it to ache, I saw a man standing next to where I laid.

Taking the wet cloth that must have fallen off my head when I turned, the man put it on the table next to me.

It was then realized I was in a bed with the covers to my chin. I was not wearing my dress. I was wearing…a man's shirt!

Trying to sit up with the covers still at my neck, "Where is my dress?" I asked him, demanding an answer. My head ached, but it was not as bad as the blush that I felt burn my face.

"Please calm down, miss." The man said, helping me sit up. He let go as soon as I was sitting upright, the covers still in place. Kneeling down, so he could be eye level with me, he spoke again. "Your dress is drying near the stove in the other room. I did not wish for you get sick in your wet clothes."

I noticed the man was young, maybe younger then Eric was. And he had the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

"How is your head?"

My head was not aching as much as it had when I awoke. "It still hurts some."

Standing, he asked, "I am going to check to see if the bump on your head went down."

Feeling him probing the area where I got my bump, I winced when he touched the sorest spot.

Seeing my reaction, he stopped and backed up a few steps. "I am sorry," he said quietly. "But the swelling has gone down."

"What is your name?" Why did I want to know that? But I was curious.

Hesitantly, he remained quiet. Finally he answered, "Jonathan."

"I am not going to call you by your first name. It is not proper."

Running a hand through his black hair, Jonathan sighed. His hair badly needed a trim, I noted.

"Call me Jon, then."

He was stubborn, wasn't he? But the shorter version of his name was cute.

"And your name is, Miss…"

"Peterson."

Smiling at that, Jon asked, "Do you have a first name, Miss Peterson?"

"Anastasia." I did not know why I told him my name, but it felt like I could trust him.

Jon pondered over that for moment. At last he said, "I will go see if your clothes are dry, Anna."

Anna? Why did he call me that?

Jon came back a moment later. "Your clothes are dry. I am going to saddle my horse, so I can get you home. Your father must be worried."

He left before I could question him.

Getting up, my head still ached, but it was a small one. Going into the other room that had my dress, I thought to myself, I must have been out for some time for my dress to dry.

The room had a potbelly stove. On the far wall was a shelf with some books. There also was a table with an oil lamp on it and two chairs. That was mostly it.

Dressing as quickly as I could, I was relieved that my dress had buttons in the front. I would have been mortified to have to ask Jon to come back to button me up.

Knocking at the front door let me know that Jon was ready. I walked to door, opened it, and stepped out into the sunny afternoon. The land looked different now then when it had rained earlier.

"Your horse must have bolted after throwing you. I did not see it when I found you. Hopefully it found the way home." Jon said leading a black horse up to me. "Raven is a bit spirited, but is harmless."

Picking me up, Jon swung me onto the saddle. Jon got on behind me. It felt weird being astride rather than on a sidesaddle. But that was not my only problem, having a man sitting right behind me on the saddle was making my heartbeat faster. I felt…I was not sure how I felt. It was something I could not describe.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked as he put his arms around my waist to grab the reins, then he nudged Raven to go.

"Yes." I was anything but.

"If you feel light headed, let me know."

I nodded slightly.

The ride was quiet. Jon started humming a tune I was unaware of.

Soon the walking horse and his voice lolled me to sleep.

"Anna, wake up." The whispered voice next to my ear woke me. Turning my head slightly, I saw my face was mere inches from his. Instinct kicked in and I turned to move away from him. That was impossible on a horse.

Without a word, he pulled me closer, if that were possible. "Stop. If you continue fighting, you will fall off."

I went still in his arms.

"We are near your home."

Why is he having some type of effect over me? I did not understand it.

We were just coming up to the main house when Papa came out, carrying a rifle. He aimed it at Jon.

"Papa!" I said in alarm.

Stopping Raven, Jon got off. Grabbing my waist, he swung me off Raven's back.

Papa had been quiet through all of this, but once he saw I was on the ground, he spoke. "Anastasia, come here."

Not knowing what I should do, I started to my father. But I stopped still half way there.

My father was not looking at me, his eyes was on Jon.

"I am going to ask this once, Parker. Did you lay a hand on my daughter?"

I may be young, but I was not stupid. "Papa!" I said appalled my face burned with a blush.

"No, sir." Jon's voice was quiet, but confident.

Not lowering his rifle once, my father said, "Get off of my land, traitor."

Turning, I saw Jon look at my father with anger, but he glanced at me for a moment. Getting back on his horse, he rode off the way we had come.

"Come inside, Anastasia Marie. We have to talk." I knew something was wrong when Papa used my name along with my middle name. What is going on? I wondered.

 


	3. Questions

 

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

Mary Jane gawked at the yellowed page and read it again. Yes, she had read right. Anastasia father had called Jon by the name of Parker.

 _Does that mean something? What if –_  Mary Jane shook her head.  _Parker isn't exactly an uncommon name, M.J.,_ she told herself mentally.

Drinking the now cooled tea, her mind was still going over all that she had read. Her great great great great grandfather didn't sound like much improvement over her own father.

M.J. liked the short version of her great grandmother's name that Jon called her.  _How does Eric and Jon effect Anna's life?_  Mary Jane wondered.  _Does meeting Jon have effect on Anna's life? What about Eric, have I judged him too soon? Reading the diary should answer my questions._

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

 _(June 21, 1865,_ continued _)_

Sitting down on the settee, I told myself to hear what my father may have to say. My father stood at the window, looking out at the sun which was heading slowly to the west. Papa knew the answers to my questions. Would he answer me?

"Anastasia," Papa's tone was even, but there was sternness in it. "Do you have any idea what our neighbors would have thought if they had seen you with…that man?"

My father was worried about my reputation? Why now, when I tried to tell him about Eric, he would not believe me?

"His name is Jonathan, Papa." By the look on my father's face when I used Jon's name, that was a mistake. Before he said anything, I spoke my mind. "Why are you so worried? I did nothing wrong, nor was Jon lying. I fell off of Daisy and he found me and made sure was not hurt. I got a bump on my head, but I am fine. And why do you call him a traitor?"

I saw a vein twitch on the right side of my father's temple. Papa was irate, and trying not to show it.

"Anastasia," Papa's barely controlled voice started, "you are my daughter and I love you. But you are naive…where men are concerned. But as a woman, and soon to be a wife, you need to know your place."

My place? Oh, I knew my place all right! I had no doubt that Papa agreed to Eric's proposal because he was wealthier then we were. My place as Papa put it, once I married Eric, was to be a wife and bear children.

Taking my silence for understanding and agreement, Papa contained, "Jonathan Parker betrayed his family and friends by fighting with those damn Yankees. Even if he was being kind," Papa did not sound like he believed his own words, "if anyone saw you with him, your reputation would be destroyed."

"Does that mean just because Jon fought in the Union army, makes him evil even when someone is in need?"

Papa did not answer my question, but told me in a warning tone, "Just heed what I say, Anastasia. We will not speak of this again." Turning, he left me with my thoughts.

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

 _July 14, 1865_ (skipping ahead a few unimportant entries)

It has been nearly a month since I hit my head. It was not serious, the doctor confirmed that. My horse, Daisy, did make it home a day after I had been there.

As I said before, Papa announced my engagement to Eric a week ago. I tried to talk to my father, but he will not listen to me. He thinks I am just nervous about being a wife, and now that I am seventeen, I am a woman I should act like one. I wish my mother was here, maybe she would have been able to talk some reason into Papa's thick skull.

There has been many a time when Eric comes to call, and wishes to talk to me privately to 'get to know me better.' That is the way he puts it. I try to make sure we are never alone; after that horrid kiss, I do not trust him.

The wedding is going to be before Christmas. I usually love the holidays. But this year I will be living on Eric's plantation. Everything will be different then. I will be a wife, responsible for the household, along with my other 'wifely' duties.

Eric as not said, but has hinted that he wants a child our first year. A baby? Along with learning to be a wife, I will learn to be a mother. And he wants a son, no less! Luckily that is something he cannot control. If Eric has a daughter, he will have to love her just as much as a son.

When I was growing up, I always wished for marriage and children one day. But I thought I would be in love with my husband too, and I suppose I thought of a 'happily ever after' with it.

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

_July 18, 1865_

I saw him today. I did not think I would. It was by accident that I saw Jon.

I rode Daisy a few miles away from home, to a meadow. It was a place I went to when I was younger. To me it was secret place. I do not think Papa knew about it.

There was cluster of trees before getting to the meadow. Tying Daisy's reins to a tree, I let her graze. There was a small pond on the far end of the meadow, which I would let my horse get a drink after she ate.

As far as I knew, the meadow is not on any one person's land. I do not believe many people know of it. Secretly I think of this place as my own.

Walking around the meadow helped me relax. I know I had to accept my coming marriage to Eric Watson. Perhaps I am wrong about him. Maybe I will come to love him in time. The thoughts have merit, but why do I not seem to convince myself of what I think?

Going back to Daisy, I untie her and lead her to the small pond so she could drink. Looking around, I see a horse and it's rider coming my way. I could not see them from the far distance, but I think the horse's color is black.

Once they were closer to me, I did see that it was Jon Parker and his horse, Raven. He waved seeing me.

About a few feet away now, Jon got down and said, "Good afternoon, Anna."

Seeing them, Daisy whinnied. Raven just snorted in return. Were the horses saying hello to one another?

Jon still needed to see the barber. But other then that he looked unchanged from the last time I remembered. But remembering my manners, I replied in kind. "Good afternoon to you."

"I did not expect anyone to know of this place."

"How is it that you found the meadow?" I asked inquiringly.

"By accident. How do you know of it?"

"I have been here many times. Since I was twelve." I had to sneak off when I was younger, but now I say I am going to ride. Papa did not question where I want on my rides.

Letting go of Raven's reins, which the horse walked away a few yards and started to graze. I would always tie Daisy reins to a tree, because I did not want her to gallop away. As if reading my thoughts, Jon said, "Let her graze, she shouldn't wonder off."

Still unsure, I let go of reins slowly. Daisy shook head, and walked over to where Raven grazed, and joined him to her heart's content.

Jon sat down in the grass, and let out a sigh. Looking up at me, he asked, "Are you not going to sit down?"

"I do not want to get my dress dirty." My dress was light green, but I did not wish to get the material torn or stained.

Shaking his head and looking at the flowers, Jon mumbled something like, "Women."

"What is that suppose to mean?" I demanded.

Looking back up at me, he grinned. "I just do not understand why you are worried about such a small thing."

"How would you know anything about it?" Feeling tears coming to my eyes, I turned, heading to my horse.

I was not really going to cry about what Jon said, it was everything that was going on in my life right now that had me upset.

I was too deep in my misery to realize that Jon was in front of me. I did not know it until he grabbed my arms, stopping me from walking. "Let me go!" I did not look up at him, but tried to wrestle out of his grip.

It was useless, Jon's grip on me was like iron, but it was gentle. Giving up, I let him lift my chin so he could see my face.

Seeing his blue eyes filled with concern, I started to cry. I had not cried once during this past month, keeping my emotions inside. Why now did I have to cry like a baby?

Pulling me into his arms, Jon just let me cry. My tears were soaking his shirt. He did not say anything, but remained quiet. After what felt like a century, I calmed down some. It was then that I realized being in his arms, I felt safe. I felt like Jon could protect me from everything that was happening in my life. But I knew that was not true.

Hearing me calm down, Jon let me go. He did not move away, but simply asked, "What is wrong, Anna?"

I found myself telling him about Eric, my father, and my engagement. Once again, he was silent, letting me tell him everything. Jon's expression did not change, but I saw something in his eyes. Finally when I was done, he spoke.

"Anna, I want you know, if you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me, okay?"

Nodding, I said, "Thank you for-"

Cutting me off, he said, "You do not have to thank me. How about if we meet next week, here?"

I was not sure if that was a good idea, but it would be nice to talk to someone. And maybe Jon could talk to me, I was sure that he did not have many people to talk to him, with everyone thinking he was a traitor.

"I will try." I said. I looked back at him, not saying any more. But maybe he could see something in my eyes.

Walking to Daisy, Jon falling in step with me. Once at my horse's side, I turned to him. "I need to get home." Jon helped me on my horse. We did not say good bye.

I felt his gaze on me as I rode out of the meadow.

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

Mary Jane rubbed her weary eyes. She knew she should take a break. Getting up, she went to the kitchen to make herself some toast. After putting some butter on the two pieces of bread, she went back to the chair to read more of the diary.

She found out much about Jon through reading what Anna had wrote. His parents had both passed away, leaving their plantation to Jon's older brother, Matthew. Unfortunately he could not go back to his home, but lived in a small cabin that was now his home. He had fought for the Union army during the War Between States. Which had made him a traitor to the rest of his family and friends.

One interesting thing Mary Jane found out was that Anna was secretly seeing Jon, even though she was engaged to Eric. Anna spent as much as time with Jon at the meadow as she could. The entries in the diary went from July to November with the time. Although she didn't have to say, M.J. knew that her great grandmother was in love Jonathan Parker.

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

November 21, 1865

So much as changed over the past few months. But not just the seasons.

It is colder now then it had been, winter will be upon us before we know it. I feel winter has come on me. My heart feels like ice.

When I reached the meadow earlier, Jon was waiting for me.

Looking at his handsome face, one I came to memorize, I saw that something must be troubling him. His eyes seemed veiled, like he wanted to hide his emotions.

"We can not see one another anymore."

I did not expect him to say that and so suddenly. "Why?"

"Because-"

"Because I am engaged? I do not love Eric. It is-"

"Do not say it." Jon's voice was quiet, but filled with emotion.

Grabbing his hand, I pleaded, "We can run away together. Go somewhere people will not hate you."

Shaking his head negatively, Jon said, "I do have to go. But you can not come with me. It would not be fair to you."

"It would not be fair?" I felt tears coming to my eyes. Blinking them back, I looked right in his blue eyes. "Staying here, to marry a man I do not love? And having to let go of the one I do?"

"Anastasia," it was the first time he had spoken my full name, not just Anna, "I can not stay here, nor can I take you with me."

"Why do you have to decide for me?" I was angry. Did I not get to make my own choices?

"Anna, I have nothing to give you. I do not know if I could even provide for you." Jon's voice was quiet, I thought he may not say more, but he did. "At least Watson has means to make sure you have everything."

"Except love." I could feel tears starting down my cheeks.

"Anna, I do love you, more then you know. But I can not take you with me." Jon looked like he may weep himself. But I would not think any lesser of him if he did.

"And I love you." I knew it was pointless to try to talk to him anymore. He was going to go, and I would be left behind.

Cupping my face with his hands, Jon kissed me.

There was more in this kiss then our other kisses had been, but it was our last.

Putting all of my feelings into the kiss, I knew he was doing the same. I knew I could deny him nothing.

Now I am sitting in my room trying to write this down. I weep until I have no more tears to cry. My heart has shattered into a million pieces.

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

It was good thing she was done with that entry. Mary Jane was in tears as well.

She hadn't expecting that. Jon had just left? Left Anna to marry Eric?

 _Why does what Jon did remind me of Peter?_  She pushed that thought away.

M.J. thought about her earlier questions for a moment.  _If Anna had ran away with Jon, my family wouldn't even be here. Or at least I would have a different last name…_

Wiping away stray tears, Mary Jane let out a shaky breath. She didn't realize that reading diary would be so unsettling. But M.J. needed to read the rest of whatever Anna wrote.

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

June 25, 1866

It has been six months since my wedding. It has been the most isolated months of my life. I have not written much of anything in this diary. But what could I write about? I have nothing happy to say.

Thinking about Jon makes my heart ache so.

Before I could think more of my lost beloved, the baby in my womb kicks. It seems Eric will get a child our first year.

I was brought out of my thoughts when my husband came into the library. I sent much time here, reading. After all, as a wife of a wealthy plantation owner, I do not have do much of anything.

If only I could have gone with Jon. I would happily be on my hands and knees scrubbing floors. I would not care if I was so poor that we had place to go. We would have had each other.

"Good afternoon, my dear." Eric bent down to kiss me. At the last minute I turned my head, making him kiss my cheek.

Grabbing my arms, Eric lifted me up, so I was standing next to him. My diary fell with a small thud.

Picking it up, Eric opened it to see what was inside. Fighting the urge to grab it out of his hands, I clutched my hands in the folds of my afternoon dress.

"Eric, daring," I mentally winced at the endearment I used. "I was busy with that, can I have it back, please?"

Eric looked up. I could tell he was seeing this to his advantage. He took my chin in his hand kissed me properly.

I tried my best to return the kiss, though I was repulsed by it.

Once the kiss was finished, my husband smiled, with the diary still in his hand. Now giving it back to me, he said, "We can continue this later."

After another kiss, he left the library.

Still standing I realized I was shaking. Sitting back down I put my hand to my stomach, I feel the child within me move again.

I need to hide this diary. I can not write more and risk Eric finding it.

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

Mary Jane felt another tear go down her cheek. Wiping her hand over her cheek, she realized she had been crying for some time.

The diary ended there. So Anna stopped writing. But there still was so many unanswered questions.

Reading the diary had been draining. Looking at the clock on the wall, M.J. saw that it was 8:30. She had been up for five hours.

Maybe she could get some rest now that she was done with the diary. Laying down on couch, Mary Jane hoped to be able to sleep there.

Still thinking on Anna and Jon, M.J. wished it had ended differently for them. She did not know if Jon was an ancestor of Peter's or not.  _If he was, would that change anything?_  But Mary Jane didn't know that.

What if…what if Eric wasn't the baby's father? What if Jon was?

That thought made Mary Jane sit up. Anna never said who was the father of the child, not really. M.J. didn't believe any woman would write such private details during that time in a diary.

Now this baby could change everything. If Jon  _was_  related to Peter, and if he  _was_  the real father of the child…

Getting up, she made a beeline to her bedroom.

M.J. didn't have a computer, but she knew a café that had computers for college kids to go on the Internet. Maybe she could look up some family information there.

Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, Mary Jane brushed her teeth. Sliding into some slip on shoes, she headed for the door.

As she was about to close the door, the phone rang. M.J. paused, but thought,  _No, this is too important. I'll call whoever it is later._  Closing and locking the door, Mary Jane hurried down the hallway toward the elevator.

She may have thought differently if she had heard who was on her answering machine. "Hi, M.J., it's Peter." A sigh. "I guess you're not home. I just wanted to…"


	4. Unanswered

\- O – O – O – O – O – O -

The baby's father was Eric Watson.

By typing in some of the names of the members of her family along with birth dates, Mary Jane was able to find out some information about her family history. So she was wrong about the baby's real father.

M.J. wasn't sure if she was relieved or saddened at that fact.

From the dates, pieces of the puzzle really began to fit together. Eric and Anna married Christmas of 1865 like the diary said. Anna's son, John Watson was born October 1866, about ten months after the wedding. Unfortunately, Anna had died in October 1866.

Staring at the screen, Mary Jane wondered if she could find out anything else. But not about her family.

Typing Peter's name, along with his aunt and uncle's she waited to see if anything would come up. M.J. wished she could remember the names of Peter's parents. She was sure she had heard them before. The screen came up with a countless amount of names.

Sighing, M.J. didn't feel like going on a wild goose chase. She had been able to narrow her search when she did her family because she had more information to go on.

Getting up she went outside to get a cab. So, John Watson was really the son of Eric and Anna. There was no blood relation to Jon Parker what so ever. Finally a cab stopped.

Mary Jane didn't even remember the ride home. Tiredly she came into her apartment. She should be happy that she solved the baby mystery, but the disappearance of Jon Parker left so much unanswered. Anna never said what became of Jon when he left. _Where did you go after leaving Anna?_

Passing the answering machine, M.J. glanced at the blinking light, letting her know that she had a message.  _I'll check it later. I feel like I am ready to drop._

And drop she did once she got to her bed. She didn't even bother taking her shoes off. Closing her eyes, M.J. was asleep in a instant.

Sunlight filling through Mary Jane's window woke her. Turning her head away, M.J. saw that it was about 4:00 in the afternoon. She had gotten five hours of sleep at least.

Mary Jane hoped she wouldn't fall asleep or yawn during her modeling shoot tomorrow. She should go to bed early tonight to make sure that she got enough rest. Part of her wanted to close her eyes and go back to sleep, but Mary Jane had to get up. Once up she walked out of her room, toward the living room.

Hand combing her red hair, M.J. hit the answering machine's Play button to hear her message. Going to get a glass of water, she stopped when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hi, M.J., it's Peter."

"You have perfect timing, don't you?" She questioned the machine.  _He must have been the one trying to call this morning._

"I just wanted to wish you good luck with your modeling shoot tomorrow."

Against her will, her lips turned up in a small smile. Peter must have seen or talked to his aunt to get that information. She hadn't even told Harry Osborn, another friend, about the job.

"Maybe we could do something…sometime." Peter's voice got quiet at the last word. He paused for a second. "Can you call me back when you get in?"

He paused again, this time it was longer. Mary Jane wasn't sure if she heard anything in the background on the machine, but Peter must have. "Well, uh, break a leg tomorrow, M.J. Bye." With that machine ended the message.

Looking down at the machine M.J. stared at it, _Break a leg? Peter, that's for acting!_ She scolded her friend mentally.

Mary Jane picked up the phone to return the call. It rang three times, with no answer. By the sixth ring, she figured that Peter wasn't home. That, and he didn't have an answering machine. She hung up.

Shaking her head from side to side, M.J. spoke out loud as she headed to the kitchen, "You're such a mystery, Peter."

Mary Jane's thoughts went back to the diary. With a glass of water in hand, M.J. picking it up where she had left it on the table, she went out to her small balcony. It wasn't very large, maybe big enough to hold a folding chair and a potted plant.

Sitting down on the cool seat she opened the diary where she left off. The pages were still blank. But it seemed unfinished somehow.

Slowly turning the pages, Mary Jane saw nothing but empty pages. That was until she came across an entry near the end.

_May 8, 1888_

_By reading this diary, I have come to know my husband's_ _long deceased mother. I have been looking for this diary_ _for two days. Now that I read it, I understand much of_ _Anastasia wrote._ _I guess I should start at the beginning. To start, my_ _name is Mary Watson. My husband's name is John. This all_ _began two days before…_

* * *

_Watson Plantation_

_May 6, 1888_

Going around the library, I felt miserable. Being seven months in pregnant and with May being unusually hot, was not a picnic. I was ready for all of this to end.

Walking, or waddling in my case, I headed for the front door. Maybe there was a light breeze. Any wind, cool hopefully, would be a blessing.

The porch wrapped around the house on the ground floor. Sitting down in a cottoned wicker chair, I let out a breath. I prayed I could get through the next two months like this.

My husband, John loved me just as much now as the day we married. I love him too, with all of my heart. Even with his father's disapproval of me as John's choice of a wife, we still married.

John's father, Eric Watson, had passed away about four months before. He had not been an easy man to live with, but for my husband, I tried. I am not saying that I am glad that John's father is dead, but I feel I can at least live in this house without having to worry about trying to prove myself to the man. After all, I married his son, not him. I feel sorry for John's mother.

My husband told me he had three mothers. John's real mother, the one he never knew, Anastasia, died shortly after his birth. His second mother, Cathleen, married his father when John was two, died of tuberculosis when he was eight. Finally, his third mother, Veronica, married Eric when John was twelve. She left when John was fourteen. With much of Eric Watson's money too.

John does not like to talk about them, but Cathleen was kind, he told me. She loved him like her own son. Veronica on the other hand, despised him. He has never said, but I think John believes Veronica married Eric for his money. As for his mother, Anastasia, he does not know much about her, because his father never mentioned anything. But the one thing he did say was she had kept a diary somewhere.

I can not say that this past year has been easy, but John and I survived it. We will be celebrating our first year anniversary next month. My, how time has flown!

Hearing the rumble of wagon wheels, I stood up and walked to the front steps. In the distance I show a carriage coming toward the house.

Tucking a loose strand of russet hair behind my ear, I carefully made my way down the few front steps we had. Going up and down stairs will be harder to do the next two months.

The wagon stopped some feet away, I could see a man, maybe middle age, and a youth next to him. The older one got down, and said a few words to his companion. The younger man, a teen really, nodded and said something to horses to get them to go. He quickly touched his hat in greeting to me as he passed.

Coming over to me, the man took off his hat. I could see he had graying hair, but much of it was still black. He was tanned, which meant he spent much time outdoors. His eyes were blue, like the sky was now.

"Pardon me for intruding, madam."

"It is no problem. Can I help you with anything?"

"I am sure you wish to be sitting down, before I start to speak, Mrs.?"

"Watson." I started back up the steps, the man took my arm to make sure I did not slip. Once we are on the porch, I thanked him.

Sitting again in a wicker chair, I told him to sit. A maid came out with some cool glasses of ice tea. Taking a sip, I waiting to see what this man wanted.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier, Mrs. Watson. My name is Jonathan Parker. My brother, Matthew, owned a small plantation about twenty miles away."

I remembered Matthew Parker slightly, he had no family to speak of, except a brother who had moved away. "He passed away just a few weeks ago. I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, madam."

"You have come to settle things at your brother's estate?" I would guess Jonathan could move into the place if he wanted to.

"Yes, I am doing that. But I do not plan to stay here. I have also come to see old friends."

Assuming Jonathan had been friends with John's father, how could I tell him that he had died?

"Mr. Parker," I started, but he cut me off.

"Please call me Jon."

"Do you live out west where first names are common?" I was curious. I had heard stories about how bad the West was.

Smiling, Jon nodded. "You could say that. We, the boy you saw, is my son, live in Wisconsin."

Wisconsin? It had been a state of the United States long before I was born. Wisconsin could not be called part of the 'Wild West'.

Hearing another wagon coming up the road, I turned to see who was coming to visit. But it was John's carriage. He was coming back from meeting with the bank.

My husband was not alone. John helped an unsteady young man from the coach. It took a minute to see the battered youth was Jon's son.

Just as I had figured this out, Jon had jumped from his seat, and rushed down the steps to his son.

"Derrick, what happened? Are you hurt?"

Walking toward the steps, I was able to hear what the teen said.

"Pa, I-"

"Do not say you are fine." Jon's voice was harsh. I could see his tone was more out of worry then anger.

Derrick definitely was not fine. His one eye was swollen, drying blood was forming on his split lip, and he was holding his left arm close to his chest.

"I was attacked."

"We should let him lie down," John interrupted, speaking to Jon for the first time. Both of them helped Derrick up the steps. My husband had been talking to the driver just before, who now drove to the direction of town. He was going for the doctor, I was sure of it.

Letting the men pass, I could see the Derrick could walk, but he was unsteady on his feet. Had whoever assaulted him gave him a concussion?

Derrick was in one of the downstairs bedrooms. His father was with him. I was going to go get some water and rags to wash Derrick's face when my husband come in and stopped me.

Leading me out of the room, he turned to me. "Mary, I want you to sit down," his tone was the same as always, but it had a no nonsense to it.

"I want to-"

"I will handle it. Please, go sit down. I do not want you on your feet."

Part of me was little angry about being ordered around. But some common sense kicked in. John was worried about my well being, as the well being of our unborn child. Nodding, I went to the drawing to wait for the doctor.

I must have dozed off for a time, because I woke to raised voices.

Unable to hear what was being said, I got up to see what was going on. The child within me kicked, like he or she wanted to know too.

Reaching the door which I had left ajar, I heard Dr. Edwards' voice clearly.

"I will not treat him."

"Whatever I did twenty-three years ago has nothing to do with my son." Jon's angry tone snapped back at the doctor.

"This coming from you? Parker, you turned your back on your family and friends. As well as your responsibly."

"You have no idea-"

"Dr Edwards," John voice cut in. "there is a someone in the other room, injured from being attacked. Why should he suffer for his father's mistakes, as you see it?"

All was quiet, then I heard the doctor's voice. "Yes, you are right. Wait out here, please."

A moment later, I was confronted by my husband and Jon.

"Eavesdropping, Wife? You cease to amaze me." Though John's voice was normal, I could see the mirth in his green eyes. With the tense situation, we all could use a laugh.

Not even brothering to answer that, I thought maybe I could talk with Jon, before he started pacing the floor. "Please, sit." I told him.

John and I sat down on the davenport across from him. Jon's gaze darted to door.

"Jon, you never told us why you are here."

"He said he was looking for some friends, right?" I asked him.

"Yes," Jon started. He looked at John when he spoke again. "I wanted to see if your mother still lived here."

How would he know about John's mother? Did he mean Anastasia, John's real mother?

As if reading my mind, my husband questioned Jon. "Which one do you mean?"

Jon looked puzzled. "Your father had more then one wife?"

"Three."

I saw the color drain from Jon's face. "So," he cleared his throat. "Your mother, Anastasia, passed away?"

"Yes, when I was born." John paused, then continued, "Did you know my mother?"

"I knew her for a short time."

I looked at Jon. His eyes were filled with sorrow. Oh, my. Had Jon been in love with Anastasia? Yes. I had no doubt about it. It was written on his face.

Looking at my husband, I knew he saw the same thing. But I also saw that he longed to know more about the woman he never knew.

A knock come on the opened door. It was Dr. Edwards. I stood when he came in.

I thought I would check on Derrick while Dr. Edwards talked to my husband and Jon. That and I knew they need to talk, once the doctor was done.

Derrick was laying down just as I saw him last, but his eyes were closed. I did not want to disturb him, so I started to close the door.

"You can stay, if you want."

So the he is not sleeping after all. Walking in, I saw that Dr. Edwards bandaged his left arm and his split lip was clean of any blood. His eye was starting to turn a nice shade of black and blue.

The other eye was wide open, and I saw that Derrick had the same blue eyes as his father. But where Jon's hair was, or once was, black, Derrick's was brown.

"Thank you for helping me." Mentioning toward an empty chair, he said, "Sit, please."

"Everyone wants me to sit." But I smiled so he would know that I was not offended.

"Dr. Edwards says this is the Watson place. You are Mrs. Watson?"

"I am. How did you get hurt earlier?"

"Five men were on foot. I stopped when they got in the middle of the road. They pulled me off the wagon. They were going take it. I tried to stop them, but they got it anyway."

"You are lucky."

"Maybe." Derrick did not should like he believed himself. He closed his eyes.

"Well, your mother will be relieved."

"Right, but she died when I was seven." He replied simply, then he yawned.

Derrick did not seem upset over the fact, that or he was hiding it. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

He seemed younger then that. But I should not say much, I am four years older then he is.

I could hear by his even breathing that he had fallen asleep.

Resting a hand over my stomach, I wondered what my child would be like fifteen years from now.

* * *

_Now two days later I still am thinking on everything_ _that happened. Derrick is now at Matthew's, or now his_ _father's estate. They plan to go back to Wisconsin as_ _soon as Derrick is well enough._ _John did not tell me about the conversation he and Jon_ _had. But I know he will tell me someday. It is a shamethings_ _had not worked out differently with Jon and Anna._

Mary Jane wasn't sure if she had answers to all of questions. It just seemed this entry from Mary raised more.

With so much on her mind, Mary Jane got up to go back in her apartment. Wanting to forget all that she learned today, M.J. decided to see if the radio had anything interesting. It would distract her at least temporary.

Turning on the radio, Mary Jane left it on the news station, instead of moving the dial to one of the many music stations.

After hearing the weather was going to be sunny, but cool tomorrow, M.J. was thinking of changing the station when a report on Spider-Man came on.

It told how the masked hero managed to stop someone from committing suicide that morning. The person had been ready to jump, but Spider-Man came and talked to hurting soul. One person didn't end their life today.

The latest report said that the wall crawler helped people from a burning apartment complex this afternoon. He was able to get everyone get out before the roof caved in. Luckily no one was seriously hurt.

 _At least the news is fair to Spider-Man,_  Mary Jane thought as she walked back out to her balcony.  _Tomorrow the_ Daily Bugle _is going to say that he was involved somehow with both incidents._

The ringing of the phone made Mary Jane jump. Quickly getting up, she turned from the balcony into the kitchen to get the phone. Getting it before the machine kicked in, she said a quick "Hello?"

"Hi, honey." John Jameson's voice came over the telephone waves.

"John!" Mary Jane hadn't been expecting her boyfriend to call.  _Why shouldn't he?_  She scolded herself. John said he would call a few times when he was out of town.

"How was your day?"

She didn't want to have to pull out her new skeleton from the closet. "Just reading and sleeping. You know the art of doing nothing."

John chuckled. "I'm glad to hear that you had a relaxing day."

 _Relaxing? Try stressful and tiring._ But she kept her thoughts to herself. "How is your training?"

It's going well. They're talking about us going to the moon. That will be an incredible experience."

"That's great." M.J. smiled. She wondered what her boyfriend would say if she said that flying through the city in Spider-Man's arms had been incredible. No, she wouldn't say anything, because she didn't want to repeat the scenario that she had with a former boyfriend, Harry Osborn, with John. She laughed remembering Harry's aggravation at her going on and on about the city's hero.

"What's so funny?"

Thinking quickly she said, "You'll get to see what it's like to play football on the moon now."  _Good one, M.J.,_  she thought sardonically,  _that sounded ridiculous._

"Yeah, I will." John chuckled at that. He had joked about playing football on the moon whenever he would go up. "So, are you ready for modeling

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"You nervous?"

"No, but who knows what tomorrow will bring?" M.J. couldn't help but remember when Peter showed up after that disastrous audition she had about a year ago. But it had been sweet of him to surprise her like that just to see how it went.

"Hey, you ok?" John had asked something, but hadn't gotten a reply to his question.

"Oh, yeah sure. Just thinking."

"What to share?" He wasn't trying to be nosy, but John thought Mary Jane was different tonight.

 _Share?_  That was the last thing she needed to do! How would explain her thoughts.  _"John, I still care for someone else and I can't stop thinking about him."_   _And how do you think John would take that?_

In the end all she said was, "Not really, it's something I have to figure out on my own."

"Sure, but you can get my cell if you need to talk." But then John yawned. "I hate to cut this short, but I'm beat."

"That's alright. And I'll call if I need to. Night, John."

"Night, honey. And good luck tomorrow."

"Thanks, good night."

Once she hung up, Mary Jane let her thoughts wonder to all that she had learned from her great grandmother's diary. She felt heartbroken over Anna and Jon's lost love. And yet, maybe relief? Because if they had some how married and had a family, everyone in _her_  family, and maybe Peter's, won't have existed. Or perhaps she and Peter would be some type of cousins.

Feeling a chill, Mary Jane looked over to see that she left her balcony door ajar. Walking over, she was going about to lock it when she had the feeling that she was being watched.

Night had fallen on the city, so she wouldn't be able to see if anyone was watching her. She felt a little paranoid, remembering the night the Green Goblin came through the balcony to kidnap her. She hadn't figured that out until she had gotten home later that night. She had remembered getting ready for bed, but one of her neighbors wanted to talk to her. Once she came back to her apartment she had smelled something that may have been gas and that was all she remembered, until she had come to on the Queensboro Bridge. Though that had been nearly a year ago, she wasn't sure the Goblin was dead. She never heard nor saw him since that night.

That wasn't the only mystery of that night, one small one was the odd message Peter had left on her answering machine. He had sounded…anxious and concerned. The message had been cut short, by someone picking up the phone, or turning the machine off. M.J. hadn't done it, so she only had to guess that it was the Goblin who answered her phone when she was out of it.  _Had he told Peter to get Spider-Man?_  She never asked Peter about the message he had left. She wasn't planning to. But that message had given her courage to tell Peter how she felt about him. And she thought he felt the same…  _And that kiss…_

Mary Jane shook herself mentally.  _Stop it,_  she scolded herself. Stepping out onto the balcony, she looked out at the city, which was so different by night than by day. Wind blew, making her hair get in her face. Tucking her red hair behind her ear, Mary Jane shivered. It was getting chilly. M.J. decided to go back inside, since she didn't see anyone. Having just turned around toward the door, she stopped. Something had caught her eye. Turning back, M.J. thought she saw a figure some buildings away. Narrowing her eyes, she saw the figure, a man probably, but too far away really to see, though she saw him jump off. Mary Jane gasped, and let out small cry. But he didn't fall far, he shot out a web about half way down and swung away. Now seeing the red and blue figure, Mary Jane thought of one person. Spider-Man.

Smiling, she watched Spidey swing away to wherever he was going to. Had he been watching her? She shook her head.  _Peter must have thought I was nuts when I told him I was in love with Spider-Man,_  she mused. _But it's Peter, the boy next door, I fell in love with._  Mary Jane sighed. She didn't need to think about that, she had John. John, who cared about her. John was  _there_ for her.

"Good night, Spider-Man." She said softly, though there was no way the webslinger could hear her. "Hope you have an easy night. And…if you see Peter, tell him I said hi." The wind carried her words away. M.J. knew that Spider-Man had better luck then she of seeing her friend.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she thought, _So much for saying you would always be there for me, Peter. I never even get the chance to see you anymore._

With that thought she turned and went back inside, closing the balcony door and locked them.

_Epilogue_

For the most part Mary Jane was able to put Peter out of mind. As for her relationship with John, it flourished. Mary Jane found she grow fond of him.

Soon after doing her modeling job for Pierre, Mary Jane became the newest and soon poplar model for Emma Rose Perfume. In January, M.J. got a part in a Broadway play called  _The Importance of Being Ernest._

Everything was looking up for Mary Jane. She had a great boyfriend, she was beginning to live her dream as an actress. But that changed when she went to her best friend's surprise birthday party. Peter's birthday…

**The End**

* * *

 


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